Read our current issue by clicking on the cover below. Read Light‘s poems of the week
photo: Karen C. Craft
by Chris O’Carroll
All that talk about collusion
Is just fake news and mass delusion.
The one that helped me win was me.
But if some foreign entity
Pops up to offer dirt next year,
They might have stuff I want to hear.
So I didn’t do it, but it’s no crime,
And of course I’ll do it again next time.
by Barbara Loots
“The Show-Me state is set to be the first in the country to fully legalize funeral ceremonies previously reserved for Vikings, some Native American tribes and Jedi knights.”
— The Kansas City Star
The Statehouse in the Show-Me State
is busy with decisions.
Failing bridges? Budgets? Floods?
New ethical revisions?
The cost of education? Nah.
But let’s make sure we’re free
to torch our moms and dads outdoors.
We’ll be the first! Whoopee!
by Ross Moyer
“Thieves stole over 100 whoopie pies in Maine”
— Boston Globe
Maine has had a dreadful theft
of very special grub.
One hundred, count ‘em, whoopie pies
were pilfered from a club.
Who consumes so many treats?
Perhaps they’ll fence the cakes.
At least, unlike with stolen art,
the goodies can’t be fakes.
by Dan Campion
“The Ocean on Jupiter’s Moon Europa Has Table Salt, Just Like Earth’s Seas.”
Glum Saturn flashes gaudy rings
But lacks for señoritas,
While lusty Jove stocks basic things,
Like salt for margaritas.
by Julia Griffin
“Researchers have discovered something massive lurking under the dark side of the moon: a mysterious blob with the mass akin to a pile of metal five times the size of Hawaii. …
The team discovered the anomalous blob by combining data … . While the excess mass isn’t immediately obvious from the surface, it does seem to be having quite an effect, dragging down the lunar landscape in a curious ovoid depression…”
— National Geographic
Beneath the South Pole-Aitken Basin—
A crater festooning the Moon,
Since somebody pummelled its face in—
There’s something that’s like a balloon,
Or maybe a grapefruit or baseball,
Offside in a hole in the sky—
Some sort, that’s to say, of a spaceball
That’s five times the size of Hawaii.
“What is it? What is it? Don’t know yet,”
Say experts at work on the job;
“We think we’ve got some way to go yet
With this, The Anomalous Blob:
“It may be a bale of detritus:
Stone, silicon, sandbags, or socks;
It may be designed to affright us—
A spherical, ticking black box;
“Perhaps it is hollow and hairy:
A lonely, uncanny cocoon
Just waiting to hatch something scary
And gently unwind in the Moon …
“We’re sure, though (concluding this session),
Our Blob’s having quite an effect:
The Moon’s got an Ovoid Depression—
As really one ought to expect.”